Eight Epigrams from The Greek Anthology

Abstract

Eight Epigrams from The Greek Anthology BROOKE CLARK To a Woman You were well-named, Melissa, though you wouldn’t even know your name means “bee” in Greek—but even so, you do it justice: your love is honey-sweet, and when we’re done you say you need some money, and I’m stung. (After Marcus Argentarius) On a Predatory Friend Bruno stupidly introduced Mitch to his latest girlfriend; within an hour, Bruno was single again. (After Lucillius) To a Hesitant Supporter You say my writing’s too advanced for the readers of today; in a century (or two), I’ll be read. I wish you’d use your influence to help promote me now— accolades are worthless to the dead. (After Anonymous) arion 23.1 spring/summer 2015 On High Standards I hate whatever novel everybody’s praising now, I hate any café that draws a crowd, I hate the kind of people who are friends with everyone— they’re always “dropping by,” always “have to run”— I hate, in truth, popularity, and the eager horde it brings. I prefer to seek out rarer things, and beauty—beauty like yours—is vanishingly rare—but then, you’ve shared it with so many other men. (After Callimachus) Some Good Advice Praise mediocrity—that’s the path to friends, fame, money. But, to my tongue, bitter words are honey. (After Palladas) eight epigrams from THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY 116 On True Friendship I don’t mind open enemies—it’s false friends I can’t stand: the kind who gladly accept a helping hand, say “Thanks” by stabbing you in the back, and then make cheap amends with “When I start a review, all friendship ends.” (After Lucillius) To J— M— We won’t admit that you are gone, when there are countless ways the good you did in life outlives your days. (After Callimachus) Against Sobriety The dead are sober. Pour—I want to drink my thoughts away. Already, age has flecked my hair with grey. (After Apollonides) Brooke Clark 117 ...